I did not want to get out of bed this morning—
Still I folded my limbs into rhythms called movements,
Slow ones that got everything done
All in late timing.
I kept folding and unfolding,
Sometimes keeping my origami figure for hours,
Watching the youth around me laugh at being alive,
As I watched, wondering what that felt like.
Heartfelt and true beautiful poem
LikeLike
Been there before too btw
LikeLike